


Snow

by PaintingWithWords (paint_with_words)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/pseuds/PaintingWithWords
Summary: Viktor discovers a snowball fight can be a heartwarming experience.





	Snow

The first snowfall of the year was always something special, Viktor mused, no matter where you were. In Saint Petersburg, it had always seemed magical, like the city was holding its collective breath, afraid to disturb its beautiful and fleeting transformation. He’d always made time in his busy schedule to go outside and enjoy the moment, captivated. It felt like some kind of sacred rite, somehow, watching the snow drift down from the heavens. 

Hasetsu was no different. The pace of life here was slower than the city he’d always called home, but people still stopped and took notice, enjoying the hushed silence that fell over everything with the lovely blanket of soft white flakes. 

He’d been outside long enough that the cold was finally beginning to seep into him. He sighed and breathed on his fingers to warm them, watching as his breath fogged around them. The grey half-light of day was dimming as he admired the delicate grace of snowflakes drifting down from the evening sky. 

The world around him was quiet and serene, peaceful. He thought about going back in and getting a cup of warm tea when he felt a sharp, icy sting against the side of his face. Stunned, he blinked in surprise as tiny bits of snow slid down his cheek, catching in his scarf and plopping down onto the front of his jacket. 

Someone had hit him with a snowball. It had been years since that had happened. Snowball fights occasionally took place at the rink in Saint Petersburg, but it was an activity usually confined to the younger, adolescent skaters. Even on the rare occasion when adults were involved, no one ever tossed one in his direction. Was the ‘living legend’ Viktor Nikiforov so unapproachable? He didn’t have time to ponder the question as another snowball hit him, this one squarely in the face. 

“Hmph!” he sputtered, brushing at the bits of snow on his cheeks and in his hair. A few feet away, he heard Yuuri’s delighted laughter. 

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri sighed, “you should see your expression!” Viktor turned to look at Yuuri and saw his face was scrunched up with an almost childlike joy, a light dusting of snow still clinging to his gloved fingers. So, Yuuri had been the one to toss a snowball at him, had he? He should have known. 

“My dear Yuuri,” he teased as he leaned down, gathered a handful of snow, and began packing it, “didn’t anyone ever tell you never to pick a snowball fight with a Russian?” 

Never mind the fact that the threat was all bluff and he hadn’t been in a snowball fight in years: Yuuri didn’t know that. And if he could intimidate him, then maybe he could win the fight before it even really began. 

Yuuri’s dark eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Viktor gave him his best wolfish smile and kept packing his snowball as Yuuri jumped up and shot off towards the back door. Quickly, he threw the snowball, aiming for the back of Yuuri’s retreating head. But just as the snowball left his hands, Mari stepped out of the back door. The snowball missed Yuuri and smacked right into Mari’s face, leaving bits of ice and snow in her hair and a broken cigarette dangling comically from her mouth. 

“Hey!” exclaimed Mari, the filter of the cigarette still stuck to her lower lip. She shot an accusing look at Viktor. “What the hell?” 

“Sorry!” Viktor laughed. “I was trying to hit Yuuri!” He tried to be sincere about his apology, but the indignant look on her face and the broken cigarette were too much, and he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of him. 

Almost as if by magic, Yuuri appeared at his side and clutched his arm, trying to hide behind him. 

“Oh no!” Yuuri cried. “We’re dead!”

“You mean _you’re_ dead-”

“No, _we_ are! Forget about Russians, big sisters are brutal in snowball fights. Mari used to play softball, and you just hit her in the face! Trust me, Viktor, we’re dead, and it’s your fault!” 

Viktor turned to explain to Yuuri that he’d started this whole thing so really it was Yuuri’s fault, only to feel a snowball graze the side of his head. He gasped and wiped at the freezing mess, only to hear Yuuri squealing in Japanese and Mari’s answering grumble. Yuuri dashed from his hiding place behind Viktor, abandoning him for the relative safety of a nearby tree and a line of low bushes, only to get pelted on the way by Mari. Viktor had to admit Yuuri was right: she was incredibly accurate with her aim. And Yuuri said she’d played softball. They might be in real trouble here…

He sprinted across the back yard to Yuuri’s side and the two of them tried to hide behind snow-covered shrubs that weren’t big enough to cover even one of them, only to be chased out by Mari’s running attack. 

Viktor ran in the opposite direction from Yuuri, figuring it would be harder for Mari to get them both if they split up. And for a while, he was right. But Mari was vicious and didn’t let up, singling out Yuuri as the weaker of the two of them and pelting him over and over again, even when he spun and fired snowballs of his own at her. She was relentless. She just kept going, bobbing and weaving and ducking and throwing nonstop. And it seemed she could hit Yuuri no matter where he ran. 

Viktor decided to strike at Mari while she continued to shower Yuuri, but most of his missiles went wide of the mark. He either tossed them where she’d just been a second earlier, missed her completely, or managed to hit Yuuri instead. 

“I thought you said it was a bad idea to get into a snowball fight with a Russian!” Yuuri sputtered at him after he’d been hit with another one of Viktor’s misfired snowballs. “Do you know how to throw those? Whose side are you on, anyway?” 

Finally, they managed to get Mari in between them and they launched a fierce attack. Caught in the crossfire, Mari ducked down and, in desperation, began grabbing fistfuls of snow and slinging them wildly without bothering to pack or aim them. Sensing that maybe they had her, Viktor furiously packed a snowball and threw it not at where she was, but where he anticipated she would be when she moved. He crowed in delight as the snowball connected and he scored another direct hit, once again to her face. 

Mari growled out a wordless howl of indignation. “Yuuri!” she yelled in English. “Your boyfriend hit me in the face with a snowball!” 

“Good for him!” Yuuri yelled back, also using English, as he launched a snowball of his own at her, laughing. 

Viktor had been packing yet another handful of snow, but when he heard Mari refer to him as Yuuri’s boyfriend and Yuuri’s exuberant reply- _Good for him!_ , no denial or hint of embarrassment or discomfort of any kind- he froze right where he was. It wasn’t like Yuuri’s family didn’t know about them- declarations and kisses on live television had a way of letting people know how you felt about each other, and they’d been sharing a bed in his home for over a month now- but it was the first time anyone had actually put it into words. And they had said it in English, so he could understand what they were saying. It was the first time anyone had publically acknowledged their relationship, and it felt good. Really good. He felt joy spreading through him like warm water flowing through ice, a welcome warmth he hadn’t even known he wanted, or needed. Everyone knew what they were to each other, and they simply accepted their place in each other’s lives as a given. Never before had he felt like he belonged someplace the way he felt like he belonged here, and he was so very grateful-

He never knew the snowball was coming until it collided with his face. As he wiped the crust of snow away, he heard feminine laughter coming at him from multiple directions: Mari’s throaty cackle paired with Hiroko’s high pitched delighted chuckle. He turned and saw Hiroko standing in the open back door, her ever-present smile on her face and her phone in her hands, recording everything. How long had she been there? No matter. Viktor wiped his face, tossed back his hair, gave her his best smile, and grabbed a handful of snow. Mari had ducked behind a shrub and was busily packing snowballs in preparation for a pitched battle, probably a last stand. Yuuri was using another sakura tree as a makeshift shield, a snowball in each hand, ready to spring. 

On a whim, Viktor switched tactics and launched himself at Yuuri, packing the snow in his hands as he ran. Yuuri squeaked when he saw him and tossed one of his snowballs, but Viktor neatly sidestepped it and continued running straight for Yuuri. 

Yuuri took off with a squeal, but he was no match for Viktor’s longer legs and momentum. Viktor reached out and grabbed Yuuri’s waist and pulled him down so that they both fell into the snow together. 

“No, no, Viktor, let me go!” Yuuri howled, scrambling to get free. “She’s going to get us!” 

But Viktor held him tight and in a flash Mari was on them, a snowball in each hand. She dropped one of them, grabbed the collar of Viktor’s shirt, and shoved the one she was still holding down his back. Viktor squirmed and gasped from the shock of cold. He let go of Yuuri and pulled at the back of his shirt, trying to dislodge the freezing snow, laughing the whole time. Yuuri tried to scuttle away, but Mari had retrieved her snowball and pounced on him, knocking him down face first into the snow as she pulled at the back of his jeans and shoved the snowball down them. 

Yuuri howled and jumped up, dancing away as he tugged at the back of his jeans to dislodge the snowball. All Viktor could do was sit in the snow and laugh. Mari stood up, threw both of her fists into the air, and declared herself the winner with a triumphant shout. 

“Okay, you children come inside and warm up now,” Hiroko called. “I’ll make tea while you change clothes.” 

“You two go ahead,” Mari called as she walked away, fishing a cigarette out of the pocket of her jinbei. “I still haven’t had my smoke break.” She shot a glare at Viktor, but there was no fire to it, only amusement. He smiled back as she lit her cigarette and took a long drag. 

“Can you send me the video you recorded?” Viktor asked Hiroko as he stepped inside behind Yuuri. 

“Sure, Vicchan,” she replied, her smile making him feel even warmer inside despite the freezing cold. 

Later, after they changed into warm and dry clothes, he sat beside Yuuri at the table, each of them nursing their own cups of warm tea. Hiroko came over and patted Viktor affectionately on the shoulder. 

“I put an extra blanket in your room so you two won’t get cold tonight,” she said. He watched as she sat down next to Yuuri and pulled out her phone. 

“Can you show me how to send this to Vicchan?” she asked. Viktor watched as Yuuri leaned over her shoulder and began to explain the process in Japanese. Under the table, Yuuri rested his hand on Victor’s thigh, giving him an affectionate squeeze. Viktor couldn’t help but feel like he’d finally come home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! As always, comments & kudos are appreciated. You can find me on Tumblr at [paintingwithwords](http://paintingwithwords.tumblr.com). Come say hello. :-)
> 
> You can read more of my fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/works).


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